Left Behind
by Carnation Cascade
Summary: SituationalFic. One-shot. Sasori's depression has driven him to a state of being incurable. Deidara finds out through a physical manifestation of Sasori's depression. Features Sasori and FemDeidara.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or its characters.**

**A/N:**  
**Thank you for reading this! I'm actually pretty sure close to nobody will read this because who wants to read about sad stuff and depression? The only reason this is here is because it sort'a came to me and I just had to pen(type) it down. This is not (really) related to my other fic, _When Our Fingertips Touch_, though. (On another note thank you to everyone who showed love for my fic Eclipse :) Thank you so so so much :'))**  
**Drop a review if you want! It'll be greatly appreciated!**  
**Thank you and enjoy :)**

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"Sasori!" Deidara screamed.

The redhead barely did so much as look in her direction, his eyeballs roving towards her. He remained slumped against the wall, his head resting against it.

Even from where she stood, Deidara could tell that his breathing was laboured. She panicked. She had never seen so much red in her life.

Crimson blood was oozing out from Sasori's wounds, and had pooled at his sides, flowing down his hands. Yet Sasori had no reaction. He had complete indifference to the pain, the blood, and the horrified look on Deidara's face.

Deidara felt the bile rising up her throat as the sickly, pungent smell of iron hit her like waves crashing onto the shore. Her hand and feet were shaking, no, _quaking _and she gazed upon Sasori with raw, unadulterated fear. What was going on did he get attacked maybe the assailant is still inside the room she should be careful what is she thinking Sasori needs help RIGHT NOW—

Her sky-blue eyes fell upon something clutched loosely in Sasori's hand.

Something metal, partially coated with a fine layer of blood, and had a plastic end.

The realization hit her like a sucker punch to the stomach.

It was a penknife.

Deidara felt her insides wrenching because of the sick feeling that had descended upon her.

No.

Just.

_Hell no._

Said blonde ran forth upon regaining her composure in an instant and ripped the penknife from Sasori's right hand.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" She yelled as her face scrunched up with a mix of emotions. She flung the penknife angrily at the wall and dropped to her knees at the teenager's side.

Sasori watched the blood that had collected on the ground—his own blood—splash slightly from the impact of Deidara's knees colliding with it. The little blood splatters hit his best friend's fair skin, staining it like paint on canvas. He realised he'd made a reference of his blood to art. Sasori smiled a bit inwardly. Both he and Deidara shared a strong passion for art.

Deidara snatched Sasori's hand and inspected it.

As she had expected, there were multiple wounds on his wrists—Sasori had been slitting his wrists again.

Over the years she'd known him, Deidara knew Sasori was slightly emotionally stable and was prone to hurting himself to relieve stress and anger. But the psychologists never told her it would get this bad. This was on a whole new scale, an entirely fresh level. _This wasn't supposed to happen_.

Sasori seemed to escape his zombie state for a bit when he'd felt Deidara hold his hand. That familiar feeling of her smooth skin against his scarred—now bloody—skin awakened a little spark in him.

He opened his mouth and tried to speak to her. Was it her? He believed so. In his current state of extreme blood loss, the world was spinning and his vision came in the form of fuzziness and blurred images. Yet he could make out that bright splash of yellow that was her hair; and while his senses were numbed, the sensation of her dainty fingers resting on his bleeding arm was unmistakable.

Meanwhile Deidara was rummaging in her bag for any potential life-saving equipment—in actuality, she was rummaging for anything, _just anything_ _at all_ that would help.

Her breathing caught up to her and she was making little wheezing sounds and now her fingers shook violently and she seemed to be digging some endless pit in her bag and… and… She realized Sasori was brushing his fingertips along her hand.

"S…Sunshine,"

His strained voice was barely audible. He reached to clasp her hand with what little strength he had, the blood smearing onto her hand.

Deidara responded to the affectionate nickname that Sasori used for her due to her hair colour by gripping his hand steadily, or rather, as steadily as shaking hands could possibly achieve, with both hands, throwing caution to the wind with regards to the sticky blood she'd been so petrified of earlier on.

"…Thank…you…"

Deidara shook her head firmly, and gave Sasori the brightest smile she could muster. Tears formed in her eyes because she knew the cold, hard truth.

Everyone knew the cold, hard truth.

Sasori was dying, his life force being sapped away with every single second that passed. The sheer amount of blood on the ground and around him was enough to testify to that.

_Darn it. You can't cry in front of Sasori now, you useless piece of crap! _The blonde chided herself harshly. "Everything's gonna be alright, Sas, just don't fall asleep—"

"—I'm… sorry…"

The strength within Deidara snapped instantly.

"No, it's not your fault!" She cried. She let go of Sasori's hand and instead, embraced him tenderly.

Her tears fell, dripping into the pool of blood below and diluting it ever so slightly. The dilutions were so insignificant though; the blood simply swallowed them up. Just like Sasori's situation. Nothing she did was going to help him.

Sasori gathered all his remaining strength to rest his hand on Deidara's head. He stroked her hair gently, reliving the silky texture and her warmth against his rapidly cooling body. He liked it a lot. Too bad he wouldn't be able to enjoy it. Ever.

…So he wanted to enjoy it while it lasted.

Shutting his eyelids, he felt the warmth spread across his body, and his mind drifted back to the times when he and Deidara had spent together, the times that had made him smile.

He decided he was tired. Maybe he should take a nap, and when he woke up he'd help to clean up the blood and perhaps take Deidara to the amusement park for scaring her. Yes, he should…

…And he did.

Deidara was aware of Sasori's lack of movement, and clung even tighter to his bloodied shirt, her sobs ceasing into the occasional whimper. She needed to hold on to him while he was still around. Because she'd never get the chance to do so once he'd departed on his one-way journey of no return.

And thus the two remained in that position for what seemed like eternity, which was in reality but a fleeting moment.

They did nothing but listen to each other's heartbeat pulsing in perfect synchrony with the other's…

…Until one was left.


End file.
